what it's like to be sad
by crearealidad
Summary: It's not the first time she's faced down death, but it's different this time.


**This story is set in the hours between "Always" (4x23) and "After the Storm" (5x01), therefore _there will be spoilers for Always._**

**This was written for a prompt from the comment_fic community on LJ on the theme of Beatles lines/songs. The prompt was for Any Fandom, Any Character, _"She said, 'I know what it's like to be dead.'"_ from She Said She Said by The Beatles.**

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"It's just... I want to believe you, Kate. I need it so badly and I just..." His voice breaks off as she rolls onto her side, her bare breasts stuttering him to silence, even half cloaked in shadow. It's not just her nudity but the bruises the state reveals that are killing him. In his dreams, she's all milky white skin, gorgeous curves, and rough edged-scars - not mottled in spidery bruises that range from deep maroon to greenish black. In his dreams, it feels like perfection. Like magic.

Everything about making love to Kate Beckett had been perfection _and _magic. But now the sweat is cooling on their skin and it's too still and too quiet and the logical parts of his brain are trying to catch up with the romantic, emotional, gut-instinct parts and it's got him a bit lost because even now, it feels like his pain and anger and all that bitterness is in bed with them - like grains of sand clinging in the folds of the sheets that refuse to be shaken free.

It helps when she reaches out, cupping her hand to his cheek and drags it back along his ear, but it's not enough "The bruises will heal," she promises at whisper, skimming her fingertips down to his shoulder.

Nodding, he closes his eyes against the sight of her in attempt to ask her what he needs to know. She's been this close to death before; he knows them all by heart and knows that they've never talked about any of them, not in any real way. No matter how many bullets or rivers or CIA agents have tried to take her from this world, they've never managed to break down her wall.

If it's even down at all. She's never been this open, this emotional, in front of him, and he hates how much he's doubting her. This should feel like happily ever after but she _nearly died_ and him wonders if he's just so desperate for this to be real that he's making it all up. Maybe he's even face down on his desk, down a bottle of Scotch, and drooling on his blotter.

"Why is this any different?"

Once the question has worked its way out, he holds his breath hoping that she's a little bit psychic because he's out of words and his question is far too vague for his own liking. The writer in him is sorely disappointed.

He opens his eyes just in time to watch her roll on her back, sucking in a breath so deep it seems to make her entire being expand.

"There are a lot of reasons. Maybe a million," she says, easing out a prolonged sigh as her eyelids try to flutter away the tears that well there. "I said, before, that I remembered everything. And I thought I did, remember it all, I mean."

It's hard to stay still, but she's got five fingers braced against his sternum and her elbow locked in place to keep him at arms length. He hates the sound of her crying and he wonders if she can feel his heart lurching with each hitched breath she takes.

"But I don't. Or I didn't," she continues, dragging on her lower lip afterwards.

"Kate," he pleads gently, reaching past her hold to let his hand rest on her stomach, needing to offer her some sort of comfort because she sounds so broken. "You don't have to-"

He doesn't want to relive that day. Not tonight. It's bad enough that he can't just drown himself in the joy of _Kate_. Even now he can already feel the bile rising in his throat, threatening to choke him if that scene plays itself out.

"No, I do. This is important," she assures him. There's a little kick-ass Beckett behind that tone and he feels the muscles of her stomach tighten under his touch as she lets her fingers drop from his chest so she can prop herself up on her elbows. She's looking directly at the wall, not at him, as she explains, "I don't know how long I was actually hanging there. But it felt like _forever. I_ I've never had that much time, Castle. Even when we were sinking in the Hudson, I was so busy fighting and freaking out because I thought you were _dead_ that I didn't have time to think about the fact that I was going to die."

She pauses then, glancing his way before turning her eyes back to the front, then down to his hand where it's curling against her stomach. The tears are still there but her voice feels more like velvet than gravel and it helps keep him quiet. His instincts are telling him to pull her into his arms and never let her go. To keep her here, forever, so she'll never have to face down death - his or hers - again. But there's a calmness to her eyes now and that with the gentling of her voice he's soothed just enough to keep him in place.

"But up there, Castle, I had all this _time._ I just kept thinking of you. Of you in that damn zombie mask. You saving me in that river. You helping me escape that tiger. You on the swingset. But mostly I just kept seeing that day at the funeral..." Her lips faltered momentarily, her tongue sweeping over them before she continues, "And I was terrified. I could remember it so clearly... god I could feel it."

Silently, he watches her clamp her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens them, she stares at the wall ahead of her, every muscle in her body pulled tight with the intensity of her emotions and he can't help but wonder if part of that wall is still in place, trying to stand up against the tidal wave that seems to have washed her onto his shore.

"That thing I couldn't remember..." She starts, then takes a hitched breath before she says, "I know what it's like to be dead."

He chokes on the breath he sucks in then. His lungs are burning and it feels like the fire is consuming all of the oxygen before it can reach his heart because he can't move. Can't think. She might be shaking under his palm but there's nothing than can get him past those words.

The next thing he knows, she's got her hands on his shoulders, rolling him on his back. Her hair falls like a curtain around his face as she kicks a leg over him then settles down against his chest so that he can feel her heart beating against his own and her warm breath curling against his throat. She's the one who picks up his hands and puts them on her lower back and whispers gentle kissing against his shoulder.

"Death is way scarier than I ever thought it would be, Castle," she whispers somewhere near his sternum. "It wasn't heaven or hell, it was just... nothing. No justice. No judgement. No revenge. Just... this..."

Her voice trails off then and he manages to regain the use of his hands, spreading his fingers across her skin, surprised when it warms under his touch. He's not sure if she's done, but he doesn't need to know more tonight. Maybe not ever. He doesn't want to know what she knows, wishes he could steal that memory from her forever. So when his gentle strokes draw a surprised whimper from her lips, he covers her lips with his, silencing the rest of her explanations.

He doesn't give her back her mouth until she's panting and telling him that she needs to be _on top._ She lifts herself up, looming over him for a moment before letting her head fall back as she begins to ride him. With one hand, she puts one of his hands on her heart and his other one against his own, forcing him to follow the dramatic rise and fall of their hearts as they both reach their peak, then start to slowly come down.

She doesn't attempt full sentences again until she's curled up against him, her back against his chest, and he can feel the rippling tremors of her orgasm going still under his palm.

"This is way better than dead," she whispers and he can't help a slight chuckle. That earns him a light swat to the back of his hand, but she squirms herself a bit closer to him still. "You remember in the freezer, when I told you that I'd accepted that one day, I'd die on the job?"

He nods, burying his face in her hair a bit deeper, then tightens the grip he's got around her abdomen.

"That's what's different. Back then, I was _expecting _to die for justice. It was my destiny. But now that I know..."

Her voice drifts off then and doesn't return. Sleep takes hold before she can complete her thoughts, but it's enough to fill him with hope. Enough to let him follow her into sleep.


End file.
